An unusual strategy
by carebearfrost
Summary: Reid is kidnapped while investigating an un-subs house. Because of the nature of the un-sub, Reid figures out a rather unusual tactic to escape: Talking. Slightly humourous two-shot. Reviews are greatly appreciated.


**Hi there! Before y'all read this, just know that this is my first Criminal Minds story. I'm still adjusting to the characters, and for those of you who recognize me here on fanfiction, you know that I usually write for a much light-hearted show (Sonny With A Chance. . . don't judge me. ;P) so I'm definitely loving all the dramatic awesomeness that is Criminal Minds. [: **

**I originally planned to make this a one-shot, but then I realized it would be too long so I'm making it a two-shot. Yes, Reid **_**does **_**get kidnapped, but there will be no torture, it will be relatively quick, and I'm going to be taking a slightly more. . . humorous approach to it, if that's even possible. Anyways, I've been in the dark ages when it comes to fanficiton, so please excuse the suck. [; This is me trying to get back up on my feet after almost 6 months of a writing hiatus. **

**Try to enjoy! (:**

Calm.

Just . . . Stay calm.

A drop of sweat slowly slid down the middle of Reid's back, edging around the rim of the gun that was pressed against him.

"I'm not gonna say this again," A voice hissed in Reid's ear, "walk to the van and get in, or else I will blow black-haired beauty's brains out." Reid felt the pressure of the gun being lifted, and his eyes widened in horror as he saw the un-sub point the gun at Prentiss, who was lying on the ground, her hands clutching her swollen ankle and staring at Reid with fear-filled eyes.

"Richard, you don't have to do this." Prentiss spoke softly, trying not to hiss as another wave of pain shot through her ankle, "You have our guns and you're much stronger than us, so we obviously don't pose  
>a threat. Let's just...talk."<p>

Richard Casters snorted and clicked the gun into place, aiming the barrel at Emily. "Move, kid." Reid stumbled as Casters pushed him towards the blue van that was a few feet away.

"Reid-," Prentiss cried, watching as Casters slammed the gun into his head, knocking him unconscious. With a grunt, the un-sub picked up Reid and shoved him into the van.

Casters pointed the gun at Prentiss and raised an eyebrow, "Too late, beautiful. I can guarantee you're never gonna see your boyfriend's face again." Casters opened the door to the driver's seat then paused.

Turning back to Prentiss, he raised his gun, "For safety measures." he explained with a smile that sent shivers down her spine.

The gun-shot and Emily's screams echoed through the silence.

*|*|*

A low moan uttered Reid's lips, awoken by a throbbing pain in his head. His eyes fluttered open and he tensed up and what he saw.

He was sitting in the passenger seat in a van, his hands and feet tied with silver duct-tape. Instantly statistics about duct-tape and the strength required to break through some shot through his mind. Reid glanced over and saw Richard Casters in the driver's seat, his hands white from gripping the steering wheel tightly.

_He's anxious_.

Not wanting to talk to Casters yet, Reid looked out the window and saw pitch darkness, an occasional tree or abandoned building, but nothing that could tell him where they were. Panic filled him, and Reid had to remind himself to breath.

Breath. Stay calm.

In, out. In, out.

Just review the profile, Reid instructed.

In, out. In, out.

Taking in a shaky breath, Reid closed his eyes and reviewed everything about the un-sub.

_Richard Casters; 37. Born in Nebraska, ran away when he was 13. Been in and out of jail since. Killed a total of 23 people-;_

_Wait. _

_23 people?_

Reid's breathing quickened and he felt cold fear begin to seep in his veins. _Oh, god. This is it. This is the end-,_

_Stop. Breathe, Reid. Breathe. _

Reid took a deep breath, trying to calm his shaking nerves. "Focus, focus." He muttered under his breath, trying to think of any helpful information.

_All the victims died within a day of abduction. Casters would merely abduct them, take them to the dump site, and then shoot them. _

Therefore, Reid reasoned, Caster's is probably taking him to a dump site right now. To kill him.

Reid ignored that thought, and continued to think.

_He doesn't torture, he kills mainly to release anger. Speaking of which, he has immense anger and commitment issues. He's released victim's alive before he was able to kill them, and afterwards in questioning the victims said they were released because they made threats and talked a lot, apparently getting him. . . annoyed? They weren't able to figure that part out yet. _

Reid glanced over at Casters and took in his build. He was well over six foot, and looked very muscular. Obviously over-powering him was not an option. Reid scanned his brain for any escape stories about kid-napping victims that were trapped in a car. None applied to his situation, except. . .

The Kasey Williams case.

It happened three years ago, Reid remembered seeing it on the news. Kasey was abducted walking home from school. The man let her go three hours later however. When interviewed by the cops about it, Kasey said all she did was talk. She talked his head off, and he ended up getting so annoyed by her constant chatter that he dropped her off at a gas station, then drove off and out of sight.

Reid eyed Casters. Would it work? To just. . . talk to him non-stop? That wouldn't be very hard. If there's one thing he had, it was information. Loads of it. Reid could spit out tens of thousands of statistics and facts.

But would it help?

It could go two ways. Option one: Caster, since he has commitment issues, could get annoyed at Reid and feel like Reid isn't worth it, so he lets him go. Or option two: Caster could get angry and could shoot him on the spot. Either way, however, it could at least buy Reid some time.

Reid cleared his throat and glanced over at Casters. "Um, hello there." Reid squeaked, wincing as his voice cracked.

Casters glanced over nervously, but didn't reply. Reid decided to continue, "I like your shoes. T-they compliment your, um, eyes."

This really got Caster's attention. He gave Reid a weird look, "Shut up." He growled.

Instinctively, Reid replied, "Taissez-vous, млъкни, den Mund halten, callar-oof!" A sharp sting in his right cheek made Reid stop. Casters held his hand up, ready to slap him again. "Stop talking!" He shouted angrily, his fingers nervously twitching.

Reid winced, his hand cradling his cheek which was already beginning to throb. "Sheesh, sorry." He muttered, "I was just translating 'shut up' into French, Portuguese, German, and Spanish."

Casters didn't say anything, he just continued to stare straight at the road, completely still except for the occasional twitch. Reid swallowed nervously before opening his mouth to talk again.

"Is there a um, newspaper for serial killers or something?" Reid mumbled, knotting his fingers together.

"I thought I told you to _stop. Talking._" Casters said in a low voice.

"I know, I know, but I mean, I'm just curious. It just seems like all the un-subs, erm, _bad guys_, go after me. So it makes me wonder if there's a newspaper or magazine just for serial killers. Called "the killers gazette" with an ad in it saying if you ever encounter the BAU to go for the tall skinny guy. I mean, it's getting kind of ridiculous when you think about it."

Casters sighed angrily, deciding it would be best to not reply to Reid's ramble.

At his silence, Reid continued. "Because the odds of someone getting kidnapped are 1 to 1,560. And since this is the second time I've been kidnapped, the odds double. _Not to mention_ that I get held hostage on almost every other case. Oh," Reid added with a grin, "I've also been shot in the leg, beaten, drugged, and ran into a house with anthrax. And now, sitting here in a van with _you_, Mr. Richard Casters, the man who single handedly murdered 23 people, and just – wow. Life is _great_." Reid sighed contently, wanting to grin at Caster's reaction. Man, why hasn't he thought of this tactic before? Annoying an un-sub is probably the best feeling in the world.

Feeling uncharacteristically bold, Reid kept on talking. "Fun fact time! Did you know that ostriches have suicidal tendencies?"

"Argh!" Casters jerked the steering wheel to the side and veered off the road. Bringing the car to a stop, he pulled his gun out and pressed it against Reid's head. "One more word," Casters breathed, sweat dripping down his head, "And I will blow your head off and freaking _enjoy it_. Got it?"

Reid closed his eyes, fighting back the immediate panic that consumed him briefly before nodding once. He felt the gun being removed from the side of his head, and a couple seconds later he felt the car beginning to move again.

After ten minutes of silence, Reid spoke up timidly. "It's cause they have anxiety issues." He muttered.

Caster's glared at him, "What?"

"O-Ostriches. They have anxiety issues. Because of these issues they eventually fall into a depression and try to kill themselves (that's where the suicidal tendencies come in) which is why they bury their heads in the sand. Most people think it's so they can keep cool, but really it's cause the darn animals are trying to kill themselves. Dark, isn't it?"

Casters grip tightened in anger around the steering wheel. "You're annoying. Has anyone ever told you that?"

A small smile formed on Reid's lips. He thought about Morgan or Prentiss, who barley let ten minutes go by without reminding him that he was annoying. "Yeah. On average about six or seven times an hour." He joked, his laugh fading when he saw Casters didn't even crack a smile.

What surprised him, though, was when Casters spoke to him. "You mentioned your job, what was it, the BAL?"

"_BAU_." Reid corrected instantly, cowering when he caught Casters dark look.

"BAU. . . " he muttered thoughtfully. "Huh. And what do you do?"

Reid licked his lips nervously, "Well, it stands for the behavioral analysis unit. We study unsu-,_ the bad guys_, behavior so we know how they act, and how we can catch them. Profilers, is what they call us." Reid explained, watching Casters reaction carefully.

Unfortunately it wasn't much to watch except for a nod. "So tell me, if you're a "profiler", can you tell what I'm gonna do? What my next move is?"

Reid resisted the urge to moan. He hated it when people asked him this question. "Well, it's based on a hypothesis which is a logical guess, based on a series of previous events. In this case, our hypothesis was based on _your _events, your events being you're previous victims, so basically, after killing 23 people we believe that you're not going to deviate from your normal routine."

Casters smiled cunningly, "And what is my routine, exactly?"

Reid felt the blood drain from his face, "U-Um, you drive your victims to a deserted location, where you shoot them execution style then leave."

"So what do you think I'm going to do to you?"

Reid shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I-I don't want to answer that."

"Tell me!" Casters roared suddenly, making Reid jump. "Uh okay, if you stick to your plan then you're going to kill me within the next 24 hours!" Reid rushed, feeling panic rise in him when he said it out loud.

Casters grinned a bright grin at Reid, "Well, at least you can know that you're not wrong."

Reid's eyes widened, and he tried not to throw up the bile that was rising up from his stomach. "Oh, and in case you didn't realize, we're going back to you not talking." Casters said roughly, not that Reid paid any attention. He was too busy focusing on the fact that this might really be the end.

Desperate to take his mind off of that topic, Reid began to talk. "Did you know, that peanuts are in-,"

"I thought I told you to _shut up_!" Casters lashed his fist out, and Reid felt a jarring blow to his face that jerked his head side-ways, hitting the window with a painful crack. The last thing Reid remembered thinking before slipping once again into unconsciousness, was how sinister Casters eyes looked. . .

"Stop fidgeting." Hotch's sharp voice sliced through the silence like a knife. Morgan frowned and made his fingers motionless. Tension was thick in the SUV as Hotch, Morgan, and Rossi drove to the house where Reid and Prentiss were supposed to check out earlier this afternoon. They had left over eight hours ago, and had yet to return.

"Try Reid's cell this time," Rossi suggested, "Maybe the battery died on Emily's."

"What do you think I've been doing?" Morgan snapped, waving his phone in the air.

"Morgan." Hotch warned, "we're all tired and we're all worried about them, but one thing we cannot do is take it out on each other. You know that."

Morgan's only reply was an angry sigh, and he turned to look out the window. Hotch and Rossi exchanged a knowing look. Morgan was particularly close to Prentiss, and Reid, well, Reid was everyone's baby.

Hotch turned onto a small dirt road, where a ratty brown house lay at the end of the drive-way. Dread filled the team as they saw a black SUV in front of the house, both doors wide open.

"That looks like a good sign." Rossi's sarcastic voice snapped Morgan and Hotch out of their daze. "Split up and search." Hotch ordered, his face dark and determined.

While Morgan went around back and Rossi went inside, Hotch investigated around the front of the yard. "Reid? Prentiss?" He called out, hearing his voice echo into the deep country-side. Panic started to seep in, but Hotch kept on looking for his friends/team-members.

"Uhh. . ." Hotch froze, thinking he might have heard something.

"H-H-hel-," A weak voice attempted to call out, but broke off into a coughing fit. Hotch immediately recognized Emily's voice. "Prentiss!" Hotch cried, beginning to run to where he heard the voice.

"H-H-Hotch!" Hotch turned to his left, and sure enough there she was, lying on the ground in a puddle of her own blood. "Prentiss," Hotch said softly, kneeling down next to her. "Are you alright?"

His eyes scanned her body for any injuries, and saw that she had a swollen ankle that was probably broken, and it also looked like she was shot in the same leg. "I got her, we're around front by the wheat-field. Call a paramedic immediately." Hotch said into his ear-piece before turning back to Prentiss.

She coughed meekly, her dark eyes filled with pain and worry. "Where's Reid?" She rasped breaking out into another coughing fit.

"Shh, save your energy." Hotch said, grabbing her hand and feeling her pulse. Prentiss shook her head and tried to sit up, "No, you don't understand, Reid, I think they took him, I need to-,"

"Stay still." Hotch interjected, gently pushing her back down. "We have a paramedic coming, and Morgan and Rossi are out looking for him."

Soon after he said that, however, Morgan's grim voice came from within the ear-piece. "I just searched the entire back area, and Rossi cleared the house. Reid's not here."

Hotch's face must've darkened, because Prentiss squeezed her eyes shut and groaned, "This is all my fault! I should've been more responsible cause he's Reid! Oh, god. . ."

Hotch sighed and stepped back as a paramedic arrived to help Prentiss.

Why did Reid _always_ seem to get himself into these situations?

***hides* Yup…sorry if that was really sucky. Like I said, it's my first CM fic and I'm still getting used to writing for these specific characters. It takes me a while to get inside their **_**Criminal minds**_** [hehehe, I love puns!] ;P **

**So yeah, sorry about the grammatical errors, spelling mistakes, plot holes, and all that other nastiness. It's been a while since I've wrote anything, and I'm still getting back in the swing of things. **

**Reviews are very much appreciated! You can be all "Continue please!" or you can be all "That sucked. Stop writing." [actually, mean reviews are, well, mean. And the few that I've gotten have kinda killed the little self-esteem I have for my writing. So if you don't like it try not to be too harsh about it]. Constructive criticism is appreciated though!**

**Peace, love, Reid![;**

**-Emily. **


End file.
